The Last Olympian Comedy
by ParodyBro
Summary: In which Percy can't seem to catch a break. "Oh, so I'm cramping your style? I thought you liked Percabeth!" "Yea," Poseidon responded, "But I'm only shipping it until you and Annabeth fall into Tartarus. Then I'm hoping you'll die." Rated T for language and some sexual references. Don't let that stop you though...
1. Chapter 1: Beckendorf Steals A Sword

**(A/N): This is a parody. It's supposed to be humorous and not taken seriously. Read and enjoy.**

**Disclaimer: The PJO series belongs to Rick Riordan.**

* * *

The end of the world started when a large black man landed on the handlebars of my bicycle. Even then, I was still having a pretty rotten afternoon.

My friend, Rachel, and I had been forced to bike ten miles all the way to this private stretch of beach on the South Shore because my stepdad's cheap ass wouldn't let me borrow his car. Now I know you're probably thinking, '_You biked ten miles just to go to some private beach? Is it even worth it?' _But it was pretty important to me. A private beach would've been a perfect place to try and seduce Rachel (something I've been trying to do for a year now).

But as always, things didn't work out exactly as planned.

"You know what, Percy," Rachel began, "I'm a little disappointed right now."

She was gazing across the Atlantic, a small frown playing across her lips.

"Why? What's wrong? Did I do something?"

Rachel shook her head, "No, no. I don't think it's you, Percy, it's just that, well...I mean this seems like it's supposed to be such a beautiful scene..."

"What are you _talking_ about, Rachel?"

"Well, look around you Percy. The sky is clear, there's a gentle breeze blowing through, the sun is setting, there's no one in sight. I just don't understand how the sea can be looking so trashy today."

She was right, the variables didn't add up. Because of the sunset, the sea should've been shimmering and glistening and looking overall fantastic. Instead, it looked like green shit that had been mixed together with toilet water; as if my dad had made it especially ugly, just for us.

My dad, by the way, is Poseidon, lord of the sea and king of all douchebags. He does stuff like this.

"I don't know what to say, Rachel. My dad must not like us being here together. I guess he's a Percabeth shipper."

Rachel looked at me like I was nuts.

"What's Percabeth?"

Did I mention that I am the only character who's broken the fourth wall?

"Oh it's nothing, Rachel," I said as I started reaching for her ass, "Percabeth doesn't have to matter here," I purred.

Unfortunately, Rachel slapped my hand away.

"Listen, Percy, there's something I need to talk to you about. I think...I think I've been seeing things, visions maybe, and..." Her gaze drifted toward the sky. Her pupils widened.

"And? And what? What visions?," I huffed impatiently.

"You know what," Rachel said in a small voice, "That doesn't matter right now, because I think Chris Rock is about to fall on your bike."

The words had hardly left her mouth, when a large, black male had fallen on the handlebars of my bike (nearly toppling me) and then on the sand beneath me. He quickly got up, cursing and muttering something about rentals. After he had wiped all the sand from his face, I quickly recognized him as Charles (Chaz) Beckendorf, my homie from Camp Half-Blood.

We clasped hands.

" 'Sup Chaz. Is it time?" He nodded glumly.

A lump formed in my throat. I'd been 'on call' for a mission the past few weeks. I'd known this day would come sooner or later, but I'd mostly hoped it wouldn't ever happen.

Rachel greeted Chaz with a cheerful 'hi!', but she wasn't looking him in the eye, instead, she seemed to be staring intently at his crotch. I had to suppress a little twinge of jealousy.

"Soo," I started, "Where's Blackjack? I want to get this mission done and over with as soon as possible, Chaz, so let's get on the pegasus and-"

"Hey, Percy?," Chaz interrupted me, shifting uncomfortably, "I don't mean to burst your bubble, but, we're not actually taking Blackjack this time..."

"Not taking Blackjack..." I echoed, "Then...then what's our means of transportation? Wait a minute, how did you even get here?" Then, a disturbing thought crossed my mind. "We're not riding with that pervert, Apollo again, are we?"

Chaz shook his head and pointed sadly to something behind me. I shrieked when I saw it.

It was a dirty, brown cow, chewing on grass, with five foot long udders that dragged on the ground underneath it (I think one of them was a dick), and a set of moldy looking bat wings protruding from its stomach.

It farted.

"Chaz!," I turned to him fiercely, "What the fuck is this? Where's Blackjack? Where's my pegasus?"

Chaz held his hands up in defense, "Sorry, Perce. We've had to make some budget cuts. Blackjack was just too much to keep. He was always asking for sugar cubes and he would refuse to fly unless we brought some hookers to his stall after a mission. So we had to sell him. We used the money we got in exchange to rent out this thing. It's a five year rental, by the way."

I turned away from Chaz and looked back at the ugly creature, who was now staring at me curiously.

"What is this thing," I said, "Please tell me my dad didn't make this."

Chaz rubbed the back of his neck, "Frankly, as to what it is, well...not even Annabeth knows, and we don't know if your dad created this either. In any case, Chiron put this animal in _your_ name.

I face palmed.

"Well that's just great," I muttered, "I guess the only way of knowing whether my father made this or not, is if I can communicate with it."

Cautiously, I made my way toward the flying_ thing. _He regarded me strangely.

_Hi_, I thought, hoping it wouldn't respond.

_Howdy!, _it responded. Of course it did. Why couldn't my dad just stop making his shit creations, and focus on the water for once?

_Um, hey. Who are you? _I thought despondently.

_The name's Whitejack. Flying ex-tro-din-aire, and official cowgirl pimp!_

_Whitejack? _I thought. _But you're a brown cow._

_Aww, don't discriminate now, pardner. Yer coal black friend over there tried to label me, and I shook him off faster than any eight second ride, I reckon!_

_Ooh-kay then, _I answered_, Er, nice meeting you then...Whitejack. I can't wait to, um, fly...with you._

_Sure thang! _He responded enthusiastically.

I slowly walked back to Rachel and Chaz and then cried. They patted my back sympathetically. I cried for a good ten minutes before I was able to pull myself together.

"Okay, Chaz," I sniffed, "Let's go save the world..." We walked over to Whitejack and mounted.

"Good luck guys," Rachel said softly, "Kill some monsters for me, okay?"

I nodded, then looked at her expectantly, maybe for a possible goodbye kiss. Rachel just ruffled my hair and said, "Bye buddy." She winked at Chaz.

I don't think I've ever felt any worse.

_Alright boys! _Whitejack hollered in my mind. _Hold on teh yer saddles! This is gonna be a hell of a ride! Yee-haw!_

Whitejack farted a couple of times to get his engine started, then took off.

Chaz looked back at me with pity in his eyes.

"Wow," he said, "You got friendzoned pretty hard back there."

I nodded glumly.

"Don't worry," he assured, "You still have Annabeth."

Some hope sparked in my chest. I _did_ still have a chance with Annabeth, even if she was always playing hard to get. I might get some ass after all.

* * *

It was dark when we spotted our target. The Shit Ship, a small, wooden, pirate vessel, was barely visible in the black night. As we soared closer, I noticed a few telkhines tossing perfectly good barrels of oil into the sea, and snickering about how 'Obama was going to get a kick out of this!'

_Whitejack, _I thought, _set us down on the lowest stern deck._

Whitejack didn't respond.

_Whitejack? Hey Whitejack! Hello?_

Still nothing.

"Oh shit, Percy! I think Whitejack fucking fell asleep!"

"Oh hell no! Whitejack! Wake the fuck up!"

But Whitejack was still snoring away, muttering something in sleep about 'square dancing' and 'that bitch Taylor Swift.'

"Oh no," I said, "We're flying straight over the ship. This fucking piece of burger meat will not wake up! We won't be able to complete the mission!"

Chaz looked at me grimly, "We're gonna have to jump into the sea. You can use your water powers to cushion our fall and then have a wave shift us on deck."

"Yea," I said, "That would be a great plan if my dad wasn't such a douche. I can imagine him now: 'Oh, Percy and his friend are hurdling toward the sea? Let me just take away the ocean for a little bit.' "

"Percy, we're gonna have to trust that your dad is feeling nice today. Whitejack just flew over the ship. We have no choice."

He was right, unfortunately.

"But I don't know what we're gonna do about Whitejack," Chaz continued, "He'll fly forever if we let him."

I snorted, "He can fly straight into hell for all I care. Let's just jump. On the count of three: One, two, th-"

Chaz unexpectedly kicked me off of Whitejack, and my life flashed before my eyes as I screamed all the way down.

I saw my fifth birthday party, my first time at Montauk beach, the first time I had ever seen Annabeth, Chiron trying to get me to touch him, Poseidon, my mother and I on Maury, Poseidon crying when Maury said, 'You are the father', me spying on Rachel while she was in the shower, and finally, Annabeth twerking on me at Westover Hall.

My series of flashbacks ended when I hit the water.

At first, I thought Poseidon was gonna pull a dick move and turn the water into ice as soon as I impacted. Instead, the water felt soft and wispy and a lot like a pillow. Chaz hit the water just a few seconds after me and I could tell he was just as surprised. We broke the surface, gasping and waving our arms to keep from sinking.

"Okay," Chaz started, "That was pretty good. Somehow we dropped undetected by the ship even though you were screaming like a bitch all the way down. We're also only twenty feet away from the ship even though Whitejack flew, like, sixty feet past it, but who cares? All you need to do now is get a tall and quiet wave to stealthily drop us on board the deck. Sound good?"

I nodded and whispered, "Okay, Dad, this is the last favor I'm going to ask you for, so please, just grant it, and you probably won't hear from me for about 10 years. Thanks."

Concentrating hard, I gathered up a tall wave that slowly, but very quietly, moved us directly in front of the port side of the ship.

"That's it, Percy," Chaz encouraged, "Just gently drop the wave, and we'll be onboard."

I exhaled deeply. "Okay Dad. This is where it all counts. Just once, for your son."

I slowly relaxed my grip on the water...and the fucking wave crashed against the ship like a wrecking ball. It was as if Poseidon himself had deliberately gotten behind my wave and pushed it with all his strength into the side of the ship. We crashed onto the deck, making the loudest noise ever and effectively tipping the ship. It only took a few seconds for squadrons of telkhines, dracnae, and empousa to surround Chaz and I.

The monsters held us on deck until the crowds parted for a familiar figure that was walking towards us menacingly. I looked up and stared into the face of my old nemesis, a tall sandy haired guy, named Luke Skywalker, who was currently being possessed by the evil Lord of Time, Crow-Nose (he always insisted that people call him 'Kronos', but nobody cares).

Crow-Nose (Kronos) looked down on me with a nasty sneer etched on Luke's face.

"Well, well, if it isn't Perseus Jackson. What an unexpected surprise, and by unexpected, I mean- COMPLETELY EXPECTED!"

Chaz rose to his knees and grumbled, "I'm here too, you know."

Crow-Nose's eyes lit up when he saw Chaz. In a millisecond, he went from evil and scary, King of the Titans, to a wannabe, white, Jay Z.

"Aye, wassup home dawg! You lookin' fresh today homie! You got your Jesus Piece on and...ayo, are those the new Jordan's? I need to cop me some of those bruh."

Chaz glowered at the obvious stereotyping going on, but nevertheless, he and Crow-Nose clasped hands. Then Crow-Nose turned back to me and reverted back into evil mode.

"As for you..." He smiled at me cruelly and then turned to the nearest monster. "You! Turn on the menacing music! I have a few words for our dear son of Poseidon here which would go great with that song I picked out."

The monster scampered over to a stereo under the mast and pressed 'play'.

Now, I don't claim to be an expert when it comes to evil music, but I'm pretty sure that playing "Hold On, We're Going Home" by Drake isn't going to help much in the menacing department. Crow-Nose seemed to be thinking the same thing.

"Not this one you idiot! It was track three! The one by Dr. Dre! How can you embarrass me like this?"

The monster looked at Crow-Nose helplessly.

"I'm sorry, my lord, but this is the only track on the CD! Someone must have forgotten to burn the rest of the music onto the blank disc!"

Crow-Nose groaned, "That was fucking Luke's job before I possessed him. Ugh, no matter. Jackson, you are in for a world of pain and doom!"

Crow-Nose continued describing the different ways I would die for about thirty minutes. "Hold On, We're Going Home" kept playing on repeat, so it was a little hard to take him seriously while Drake was singing, 'Cause your a good girl and you know it' in the background.

Eventually, it got to the point where Crow-Nose actually decided to stop _talking _about killing me and actually do it _for real_. He grabbed his scythe, which used to be Luke's old sword, Butt-Biter, and hung it over my head. He growled and looked down on me with triumph lighting his features.

"Any last words, Perc-," Crow-Nose abruptly stopped and straightened himself. Then he sighed and put his finger to his left ear as if he had an earpiece on. I couldn't see one, but it was clear that Crow-Nose was listening to something that the rest of us couldn't hear. Soon, he started responding to it.

"No, I'm not gonna- wait, what? You're crazy, this is- no, no! Why don't you just go away, I'm trying to kill Perc-...I did not do that! How could you- you know what? Fine! Just, just please don't start! I'll do it! Just stop singing!"

Chaz and I shared a confused look, while the monsters seemed to think that this was normal. Crow-Nose finally turned his attention back to us and sighed, his eyes now looked weary instead of fierce and proud.

"Um, Crow-Nose," I began, "What was that?"

"My name is Kronos," he snapped, "and that was just Luke. I may have taken over his body, but he and I still share a brain. He's always being annoying: he gives his unwanted opinions, makes stupid, random comments, tries to get me to do perverted things, he's always thinking about porn, and he won't stop fucking singing! I swear, if I have to hear "The Girl Is Mine" one more time, I'm gonna-"

"Yea, yea," I interrupted, "Your life sucks. But what did he say?"

Crow-Nose groaned, "It's a message for you. He says that if you're planning on screwing Annabeth, she likes Trojan Fire and Ice the best. He also says that Annabeth apparently loves doggy style."

Chaz nodded and said, "True."

"Oh, well thanks you guys. That was very helpful."

Then I thought for a little.

"Wait a minute, Chaz! How do you and Luke know-"

"Not important," Crow-Nose interrupted. "Now back to business..."

But then he started scowling again and said: "Great. Luke's talking again. Excuse me for a moment..." He walked away to a corner and started going back and forth with Luke.

Meanwhile, the monsters stupidly decided to watch Crow-Nose v. Luke, instead of watching Chaz and I. We got to talking.

"Percy! I know how we can destroy the ship without using the explosives we didn't bring!"

"Brilliant!," I exclaimed, "What's the plan?"

Chaz pulled out a golden coin from his pocket. He flipped it and caught it and now there was a golden sword in his hand.

"Wait a second," I said, "Isn't that Jason's?"

Chaz looked at me strangely. "I have _no _idea what you're talking about, Percy. All I know is that if you break Imperial gold, an explosion is the result."

"So you're saying that you know what Imperial gold is, but you don't know who Jason is? After all, that's his sword your carrying."

"Focus, Percy!," Chaz snapped, "I'm going to have to break this sword, sacrifice myself, and destroy the ship. Do you understand?"

I nodded, "That's fine with me. I'll just dive into the water, forget about you, and save myself. But how are you going to break the sword?"

Chaz frowned at me, looking a little disappointed. "I'm black, Percy. I can break this with my bare hands."

"Oh yea. I forgot."

"On the count of three then, Percy! One, two, thr-"

"Hey!" It was Crow-Nose who shouted. "I hope you're not gonna break Jason's sword and destroy this ship!"

Chaz and I both shook our heads 'no'.

"Okay then," Crow-Nose said, "Carry on."

"Three!" Chaz shouted.

I only had a millisecond to jump off board before everything exploded in a storm of golden light.

As I blacked out and sank like an anchor towards the bottom of the sea, I could only think of one sad and depressing thought...

_Damn, we really screwed that Jason kid over._

* * *

*Somewhere all the way on the opposite side of the country*

"Shit, Reyna! Where the fuck is my sword?"


	2. Chapter 2: I Make A Bad Deal

**A/N: This is a parody. It is meant to be humorous. Don't take anything personal.**

**Disclaimer: I am not Rick Riordan. The series is not mine.**

* * *

Demigod dreams rock. The thing about them is that they're never just plain old dreams. They're usually visions that are about real people and real things. In effect, demigod dreams allow you to spy on people, which is awesome.

Today, I dreamed I was in the Titan palace on the top of Mount Tam (aka Mount Othrys). On the highest level of the palace was a small window, and inside of that window was a wide bedroom, complete with imported rugs, a Lay Z boy recliner, a walk in closet, and even a large lion-skin pelt hanging from the wall. I noticed that there was a saddening combination of Adele, Drake, and Taylor Swift playing simultaneously in the background. That's also when I noticed the king-sized bed with a weeping Titan sitting on its edge.

The Titan was wearing golden pajamas, and a harsh light glowed from his body. His tears looked like liquid gold, or maybe piss, take your pick. But anyway, the Titan was sitting on his bed, crying like a bitch, when the large set of wooden doors to his room flew open violently.

Another Titan stormed in, wearing black armor studded with silver dots that looked kind of like stars, or maybe droplets of breast milk, take your pick. His face was covered in a war helm with a stupid looking unicorn horn jutting out of the top.

"Hyperion!" The Titan started shouting. "Can you believe it? They blew up the Shit Ship! How dare those half-bloods..." The unicorn Titan faltered when he saw Hyperion's pitiful state.

"Hyperion...what the fuck is wrong with you?"

Hyperion looked up blankly.

"Oh, hey there, Cheerios," Hyperion droned glumly, "I didn't *sniff* see you there..."

The other Titan sighed dramatically.

"How many times do I have to remind you? My name is Krios! K-R-I-O-S!"

Hyperion wiped a tear from his eye and said, "I'm your brother, Cheerios. I think I would know your real name..."

Cheerios rolled his eyes. "Why the fuck are you crying, Hyperion? You look like a suicidal teenage bitch who just got dumped."

"I did just get dumped," Hyperion whimpered. Then he burst into more piss-tears.

"Ugh. You're such a loser, you know that? How did you manage to screw your relationship with Theia up?"

But Hyperion didn't hear his brother's question. He was staring off into space, hugging his knees, rocking back and forth, and mumbling very depressing things to himself.

"All these _trash bags _but she decided to _dump ME! _All these _elevators _but we were _NEVER _on the same _level! _Out of _all _the the letters in the alphabet, she decided to be my _X! (geddit?) _All these-"

"Alright! I understand!" Cheerios hollered. "She dumped your ass!" He brought his fist down on the radio sitting on Hyperion's nightstand. It shattered instantly.

Hyperion glanced at him dully. "What was that for?"

"Listening to Adele, Drake, and Taylor Swift simultaneously is not good for your health," Cheerios stated matter-of-factly. "Listen bro," he continued, "We're in the middle of a war. You need to get your head in the game. Here's what I'm gonna do for you. I'll let you take a little vacation to New York. Go to the clubs, sightsee, sleep all day, kill a few demigods, and get over it. I'll hold down the fort here as long as you promise to return to Mount Othrys with clear state of mind, alright?"

Hyperion nodded obediently.

"Great then! I'll get the empousa to pack your bags! You should be ready to leave by tomorrow afternoon."

Hyperion rose from his bed and added dryly, "Get ready, New York. Hyperion is coming to town."

The scene suddenly shifted. Now I was above Hyperion's window, on top of the roof. A boy stood next to me, eavesdropping on the Titans. He had pale skin, hair that had been dyed every color of the rainbow, and hot pink clothing- it was "my friend", Nico di Angelo, the former son of Hades. He looked straight at me with a crazy, creepy grin.

"Did you hear that, Percy? Hyperion is coming to New York, and he's coming as a heart-broken, love-hating, teary-eyed, loser! Do you know what heart-broken, love-hating, teary-eyed losers want, Percy? They want to fuck! And do you know who they call? They call hookers! We can be the hookers, Percy! We'll dress in drag, go to his bedroom, get valuable Titan information from him, maybe give a little head, and leave with all of Crow-Nose's plans! This is our only chance at stopping the Titan army, you have to consider it."

I wanted to tell Nico that he was sick little bastard for mentioning "giving head" in a T rated fanfiction, but my voice was lost as my dreams washed over and went black (and once you go black, you can never go back).

* * *

"Percy, wake your punk ass up," a deep voice said.

My head felt like it had been cooked in an oven. I opened my eyes and saw a large, shadowy figure hovering over me.

"Chaz?" I asked hopefully.

"No, little bro."

My eyes refocused. It was my big brother, Tyson the Cyclops.

"Oh great," he said unenthusiastically, "You're alive."

I wasn't so sure though. My body felt weightless and cold. I tried to make a sound, but my voice sounded like I was trying to suck dick and talk at the same time...erm, not that I've ever _tried_ to do that before...

I sat up, and a raggedy sheet floated away. I was in a bed made of pollution. Literally, pollution. The bed was just a stack of trash, held together by large, sticky, dirty, globs of oil. The room I was in had shark tooth paneling. Old and crushed aluminum cans floated around the ceiling, reflecting the light from outside, into the room. A large squid calmly drifted through my window, and swam out the opposite side.

"Oh no," I said, "Don't tell me. I'm in-"

"Yep," Tyson interrupted, "We're at Dad's palace."

I looked around quickly, and to my horror, he was right. Only Dad would have statues of his scrotum lining the hallways in his palace.

"Oh shit!," I exclaimed, jumping up, "I gotta leave right now or else-"

"Too late!" Tyson interrupted me again. "Dad already has your execution planned for 1 p.m. this afternoon. Triton and I get to be the executioners," he said excitedly.

"You're a dick big brother, you know that?"

Tyson shrugged. "Well this _dick _has been screwing Annabeth!"

"Oh _hell _no. Take that back you bastard!"

"Come at me bro! I'm the guy who taught Sharkeisha how to fight! You won't stand a chance!"

"We'll see," I growled. I lunged at Tyson savagely, but all of a sudden, something got in between us.

It was my dad.

Poseidon raised his hands as if to pacify the situation, and then he said smoothly:

"Now, now children. Let's not roughhouse inside the palace. There are many expensive things here that we need not break, or else daddy will break out the belt."

Then my dad flashed me a winning smile.

"How's it goin' Kendrick?"

"My name is Percy."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, I'm sure!"

"Huh. Okay then."

I seethed quietly, wanting to knock that stupid grin off of Dad's face. My father basically looked like a black-haired, green-eyed, James Franco.

"Well," he continued, "Why don't you guys tell me why you were fighting?"

I snorted, "Why do you care?"

Poseidon snapped his eyes on me.

"Bitch," he warned, with a hand on his belt.

I flinched.

"Well, Dad," I began accusingly, "Tyson said that he fucked Annabeth!"

Poseidon turned to Tyson, who didn't even try to defend himself. He just nodded his head and said, "I did."

But instead of reprimanding Tyson, Poseidon grinned and said, "Oh cool! I did too!" They both high fived.

"She is _so _firm, isn't she, Dad?"

"You know it, son!" Poseidon answered.

"What the fuck!," I exclaimed, "First it was Luke and Chaz, now you two? Who else has Annabeth screwed?"

Suddenly, I swear every male sea creature in the ocean swam into my room and said: "She screwed me." I'm talking about freaking whales, octopi, sharks, crabs (lol), the coral got some, even fucking Spongebob Squarepants got a taste of Annabeth. Oceanus, the Titan of the Seas, my father's arch-enemy, even got a free pass into the palace, just to tell me off.

"That's it!" I screamed. I'm outta here!"

"No, Percy. You can't leave yet. Your execution is in a few hours," Poseidon said, as if he was genuinely disappointed that I wouldn't be able to make it to my own execution.

"I'm your fucking son. Why do you want to kill me?" I asked him pleadingly.

Poseidon just shrugged.

"Because I'm a troll. I like fuckin' with people."

He said that as if 'fuckin with people' meant taking their lives. Just a regular practical joke.

"Plus," Poseidon added, "Ever since you popped out of your mother, you've been cramping my style. I got _so_ much bad press for breaking that, 'Always use a condom' contract that Hades, Zeus, and I were forced to sign back in the forties."

I was furious.

"Oh, so _I'm_ cramping _your_ style? I thought you _liked_ Percabeth!"

"Yea," he responded, "But I'm only shipping it until you and Annabeth fall into Tartarus. Then I'm hoping you'll die."

"What can I do to gain your acceptance?" I begged.

Poseidon scratched his chin. "Well, I suppose that if you were to save Olympus..."

"Done!" I exclaimed. "Consider Olympus already saved!"

Tyson snorted, "You think that _you_ can save Olympus? The only thing that you've managed to save is your virginity."

"Shut up, Tyson!," I angrily retorted. "There's a prophecy about me, you know. It says that I have the power to either save or destroy Olympus!"

Tyson wasn't fazed. "That's all the more reason for Dad to kill you right now." Then he turned to Poseidon. "I think my little brother's time is up. Smite him, Dad."

But Poseidon was still thinking, and honestly, when Poseidon thinks, it's pretty disgusting. Some people will tap their foot when they're contemplating, others drum their fingers on a desk. I, personally, scratch my hair when I'm in deep thought.

My dad is another story.

Poseidon likes to tug on his balls when he thinks, and I don't mean by putting his hands in his pants. I've seen it before. My dad will be in an important meeting with either his court, or other gods, and when he's faced with an important decision, he'll stand up, drop his pants, pull down his boxers, and tug on his balls.

I think the Olympians have gotten used to it over the past 3000 years (save for Athena), but it came as a shocker to my seventh grade homeroom class on 'Bring Your Parents To School Day.' Poseidon and my teacher were later found having sex in a closet, and as far as I know, I could have another brother out there.

But back to the point, Poseidon stopped thinking, pulled his clothing back on, and looked me straight in the eye.

"Okay, Perseus. Here's the deal. If you can save Olympus all by yourself, _and_ get the girl in the end, I'll take back my ocean-wide demand for your death and start treating you like a son. If you fail me, then you'll be peeing rocks for the rest of your life. In the case that you EPIC-LY fail me, I'm turning you into a condom and giving you to Zeus. Let's shake on it."

Truth be told, I didn't want to make that deal. The risks were too high. If I failed, my punishment would be hell to the seventh power. Getting executed right now would be much easier. However, a few things kept me from declining:

a) Everybody at Camp Half Blood depends on me

b) My mother would probably kill herself

c) The prophecy says that _I_ decide whether I win or fail

d) I can't let Chaz die in vain

e) I can't let Tyson kill me

f) I'm still a virgin

With reasons b, e, and f in mind, I shook Poseidon's hand, which probably wasn't the smartest thing to do after he had been pulling on his balls.

My dad grinned evilly, "Excellent choice, Perseus."

"Um, okay then, Dad," I stammered, "Can I leave now?"

"Not yet," he said. "I want you to meet your _other_ big brother, Triton."

* * *

We found Triton standing in the middle of the hallway, and let me tell you this, Poseidon's heir was absolutely nothing like I'd previously imagined. He didn't look like the Prince of the Sea at all. Why? Because Triton was a middle aged, balding, Chinese waiter.

I'm serious!

He had on a white waiter's outfit. A pen and pad filled his right hand as if he was ready to take my order. In fact, his first words to me were:

"Can I tek your orda?"

He had a heavy accent too.

I honestly did not know how to respond to that, and I probably wouldn't have said anything if Tyson hadn't urged me on.

"Don't be rude, Percy," he scolded, "Introduce yourself."

"Okay," I mumbled. Then I turned to Triton. "Er, hello. My name is Percy Jackson, you know, your half-brother? Yea, so I'm just here visiting Dad's place and I thought I'd finally get to meet you..."

Triton was nodding his head and scribbling down on his notepad.

"Mmhmm. Would yew ligh dumplings wif your orda, sir?"

"Umm..." I looked back at Tyson and Poseidon.

"I'd get the egg-rolls instead," Tyson whispered.

I nodded. "Uhh...well I guess I'll go with the egg-rolls..."

"O-keh," Triton said, "Your orda will be da out in da ten minutes." Then he twisted around and stalked off without another word.

"Yea, he'll never be back with your order," Poseidon said. "I asked for some teriyaki 500 years ago and I'm still waiting."

"Does Triton just stand in hallways and take people's orders?" I asked.

"Yea, pretty much." Poseidon answered. "He came out the womb just like that, you know. He's always been balding, middle aged, and a waiter, and he was born with that pen and pad in his hand. The very second he was out of Amphitrite, he starting taking orders. Even before that, actually. I remember when my wife was still pregnant with Triton, and I would wake up in the middle of the night to a voice from Amphitrite's stomach asking, 'Can I tek your orda?' It was _so_ scary at first because we didn't know where the voice was coming from, and why it wanted our order."

I had always known that my family was fucked up, but this trip had me realize that it was worse than I thought. And it was about to get much worse in a few seconds.

"Dad, can I just go now?"

"Sure, bitch. You can get a ride from another big brother of yours."

I groaned, "Oh great. Another family member. Let me guess. Is it another cyclops? Or another waiter? Something worse maybe? Lil Wayne?"

"Nope," he responded. "You already know him actually. He's one of my favorite sons, Whitejack."

I nearly choked.

"Whitejack is your _son_!? You mean that you _didn't_ create him out of sea foam like how you created the horses? That fatass milk-provider, is my half-brother?"

"Actually, Percy, he's your full brother. Your mother and I had a lot of wild nights. One night, she decided that she wanted to see how it felt to be screwed by a cow. I turned into a cow and did her. Whitejack is the result. I can still remember how I helped the doctors get him out of your mom in the labour room."

And that's when I, Percy P. Jackson, fainted like a bitch.

* * *

*meanwhile, on the other side of the country*

"I don't care if we're about to get overrun by Titans! Nobody will be doing _shit_ here in Camp Jupiter, unless I find my fucking sword!"


	3. Chapter 3: I Hate Cookies

**A/N: This is a parody, don't take anything seriously, if you don't like the comedy, leave.**

**Disclaimer: Rick Riordan owns 'The Last Olympian' along with all the other books in the series.**

* * *

The ride back to Camp Half-Blood with Whitejack was mortifying. My supposed "brother" was a straight up redneck. I tried to keep my mouth shut during the entire trip to avoid saying some nasty things. On the the other hand, Whitejack seemed to take my silence as a green-light to talk all he wanted. He was currently describing every single one of his past girlfriends, (both cow and human), and I tell you no lie, Whitejack was dropping sentences that could easily take high ranks on the "Top 100 Stupidest Quotes of All Time" list. You don't believe me? Well check _these_ out:

_1) I swear, Percy. She was cuter than pig nipples. _(I face-palmed when he said that).

_2) M'last cowgirl was bad, Percy. Makin' love to her was like throwin' a hotdog down a hallway. _(I almost fainted at that one).

_3) Dat Annabeth gurl is purtier than a mess of fried catfish! _(Tha fuck?)

_4) I can't deal with no depressin' gurls, Perce. I knew this one purty lil' cowgirl who was always actin' sadder than a fat gurl with no boobs. _(I'm still wondering if that's even possible).

_5) She was great, Perce. That gurl was tighter than a rat's ass in a keyhole! _(I had a gun to my head at that point).

_6) That last redhead cowgirl o' mine was actin' nuttier than a port-o-potty at a peanut festival. _(I was about to pull the trigger).

_7) She told me that she liked to get down 'n dirty. I told her 'gurl this ain't my first rodeo.' _(The sheer stupidity of that quote made me drop the gun).

And lastly...

_8) M'first gurl was the best, Percy. She was about as sexy as socks on a billy goat! _(I'm so done).

Can you imagine going through that for an hour straight? Luckily, we were almost at Camp Half-Blood. I just needed to stop in Brooklyn to buy some doughnuts. You absolutely _cannot _show up to Camp Half-Blood with bad news and _not _bring doughnuts.

We flew a little bit below Brooklyn's skyline until I looked back and realized that we had flown past a Dunkin' Donuts.

_Whitejack, _I thought,_ Set me down in that moldy looking alley. The Dunkin' Donuts is only a few yards away._

_Sure thang, pal, _he responded.

Now, if I were flying with Blackjack, he would've dived into that alley as quickly as possible to avoid any unwanted mortal attention. Whitejack, however, took his sweet time and made sure that every single mortal in the vicinity saw us slowly descending into the alley. I could only hope that the mortals saw something totally normal through the Mist.

"Hey! Look in the sky! Is that a fifteen year old kid on a flying cow?"

"Oh great. I really need to get off of acid."

"Mommy! There's a boy on a bat-cow!"

"Let's get out of the way before he starts ejaculating milk."

"Yo, that kid looks like a bitch."

"OMG! Like, that boy and the cow he's on look _so_ alike! I wonder if they're, like, _related_!"

That last comment had me contemplating suicide. So, to avoid any further unnecessary and hurtful remarks, I tried that little Mist trick that Thalia had demonstrated at Westover Hall (you know, that jedi mind trick thingie she did in Titan's Curse). I snapped my fingers and there was a 'woosh' sound. Suddenly, all the mortals started looking very confused, and soon, they all ran off. My trick had worked.

Meanwhile, Whitejack was still descending _very _slowly. I wasn't at a safe jumping distance yet, so I sat and waited.

And waited.

And waited.

And waited.

If my boredom had been any stronger, I probably wouldn't have noticed the circle of police cars below us and the group of cops aiming their guns at our faces.

Apparently, my little Mist trick was a little _too _successful. The mortals thought that we were a helicopter full of AK wielding terrorists. It's kind of ironic, because a _real _helicopter full of AK wielding terrorists _just _flew by us, and yet, the cops were still about to blow _our _brains out.

Trying to pacify the cops, I said, "Hey! We're not terrorists! I'm just a kid and I'm peaceful!"

Unfortunately, this is what the cops heard through _their_ point of view, "We will blow up all of Brooklyn and then move on to the rest of your people! Death to you all!"

The police were prepared to kill me, but I didn't give them the chance. Whitejack had just entered a safe jumping distance, and I soared of off that motherfucker just as the boys in blue showered Whitejack in gleaming metal bullets (probably the only shower Whitejack has ever had in his entire life).

Now I know you're probably thinking, '_Percy you are _so_ cruel. How could you leave your brother to die like that?"_

My answer to you would be: easily

So, without looking back, I merrily skipped all the way to the Dunkin' Donuts, whistling a happy tune.

The shop seemed to be pretty empty, save for a few coffee sipping customers here and there, and a teenage couple arguing at the counter. Their dispute became much clearer as I made my way to stand in line behind them.

"Carter, can you buy the doughnuts _just this once_. You know that _I_ usually pay for everything else that we need." The girl who spoke had caramel colored hair, blue eyes, and a cool British accent.

The dude, who was a tall black guy with curly hair, seemed furious.

"Don't fuck with me, Sadie! You know that _I'm_ the one who buys_ every damn thing! _I even buy your fucking tampons and birth control pills! Why the fuck do you need birth control anyway? You're thirteen, bitch! That's too young!"

The British girl just shrugged. "I can't help that boys lust over me."

"No one lusts over you, Sadie."

"Oh yea?," she challenged. "Watch this."

Then, the British girl turned to me, batted her eyes, and said, "Hi. What's your name?"

Suddenly, I was filled with lust, and the only response I could think to say was, "I will lay you down on that counter right now and do you so hard in front of everybody."

But, before I could say that, the dude pulled the British girl away and told me, "Don't answer her."

Then, he turned back to the girl and said, "Okay, Sadie. I'll buy the doughnuts _this time_, but mark my words, I am never buying another damn thing for you ever again."

The girl just rolled her eyes and said, "Whatever, Carter."

They paid for five boxes of doughnuts, and then left, arguing about gnomes and giant sun eating snakes.

I shook my head and muttered, "That was a weird pair."

"Definitely," the cashier responded.

It was Bianca di Angelo, daughter of Hades.

* * *

Despite what most demigods and gods thought, Bianca di Angelo was in fact, still alive. Only Grover and I knew though, as we were the ones who helped her plan her fake death.

You see, Bianca was a Hunter of Artemis, a loyal handmaiden sworn off of men for all eternity. She would've _been_ a hunter for all eternity if it wasn't for Grover. Grover got Bianca pregnant. To protect Bianca from Artemis' wrath, and to hide her from the shame of having been impregnated by a goat penis, we faked her death.

The world thought that Bianca had been killed when Talos, the giant metal automaton, had come crashing down, due to her heroism. In truth, Talos came crashing down merely because he was a malfunctioning prototype.

Bianca got away, had a half goat baby named Albert, got a few jobs, and started a new life under the name of 'Cornbreesha Da'Quonde.'

"Hey Bian- I mean, Cornbreesha! How's the baby?"

"Albert's not a baby anymore, Percy. Satyrs age four times as fast as humans. He's thirteen now."

"That's great," I said, "You get to skip all of the annoying, sloppy, baby years."

Bianca shook her head.

"It's not that great, Percy. He's a teenager now. That means that he's lazy, rebellious, and horny. Especially horny. And it doesn't help that Grover stops by every now and again and brings him goat porn."

"Goat porn?," I asked. "Is that even a thing?"

Bianca shuddered, "Yes, yes it is. Can we please not talk about it?"

"Trust me, Bianca. I'm not interested." Yes I was.

"Good," she said, "Anyway, I'm thinking about sending Albert to Camp Half-Blood. Maybe it'll straighten him out...possibly."

I thought that Camp Half-Blood was a great place to go in any situation. However, _'straight', _is the last thing you'll get if you send children 13 years old or younger to Pedo Chiron at Camp Half-Blood.

"Umm, that's a great idea, Bianca, er- I mean, Cornbreesha. There will definitely be _things_ going straight if you send Albert to CHB."

"Great!" Bianca responded. "I'll send him over next week! In the mean time, can I take your order?"

I ordered and paid for three boxes of doughnuts.

"Thanks, Cornbreesha. It was nice seeing you."

"Percy, wait! You haven't told me how Nico is doing!"

But I was already out of the store. What can I say? I just didn't have the heart to tell Bianca that her little brother was acting fruitier than apple pie. So, with a spring in my step, I made my way to the end of the sidewalk, hoping to catch a taxi to Long Island.

That's when I heard the voice in my head.

_Hey pardner_, it said, _Need a ride?_

My eyes widened in shock.

"No way!," I said. "This is not possible!"

But apparently, it was.

Hovering above me was Whitejack, and he looked unharmed.

"Whitejack!" I gasped. "How are you alive? The police _sprayed_ you in bullets!"

Whitjack snorted and said, _The only thang that c'n kill me is Celestial Bronze. Don't worry now, lil brother. I know you been a' missin' me, but yer ol buddy Whitejack is here and ain't goin nowhere else! Now hop on! We got places ter be!_

Isighed.

The world hates me. A lot.

* * *

I told Whitejack to take a hike once we reached Camp Half-Blood. It was a nice day and every camper seemed to be out of their cabins enjoying themselves, but, as usual, everyone lost their shit when they saw that I was back.

They all ran towards me with bright smiles, open arms, joyful laughter, and hope in their eyes.

I had to stop that shit immediately.

"CHAZ IS DEAD!," I shouted.

That put a damper on things right away.

"But," I continued, "I brought doughnuts!"

At once, everybody forgot about Chaz and ripped the doughnuts from my hands like rabid animals. In the process, they also forgot about their sanity.

Seriously though.

Katie Gardner was about to sell her body to Will Solace for a doughnut.

Shaking my head, I started looking around the camp for Chiron. I found him in the strawberry fields, frolicking with a group of seven year olds. His eyes lit up when he saw me, and thankfully, it wasn't because he thought that I could be easily lured into a van through the prospect of free candy (not anymore at least). But that's all behind us.

"Percy, my boy," he said, "Thank the gods that you guys have come back safely!"

"_I_ came back safely, Chiron. I can't say the same for Chaz."

"Oh. Well that sucks ass. How did he die?"

"He broke Jason's sword and the explosion killed him."

Chiron looked at me quizzically. "Who's Jason?"

I waved my hand dismissively. "Nevermind. You'll find out later. Where's Annabeth?"

"She's preparing for the Big House meeting that we'll be holding soon. I suggest that you take this time to freshen up. You smell like cow shit."

I sighed. "You can thank Whitejack for the stench," I said, "He smells like..."

Then I remembered something that Chaz told me.

"Chiron! I can't believe that you sold Blackjack! He was _my_ pegasus! _Mine!_ You had no right!

Chiron just shrugged. "Sorry," he said.

"Sorry?" I responded. "You think that it's all better because you said 'sorry'? You sold an awesome pegasus of _mine_ and then replaced him with a flying set of udders! I just hope for your sake that Blackjack was sold to a good owner!"

Chiron waved his hand dismissively. "Don't worry. He's in good hands. You'll see. In the meantime, you should get ready for the meeting. I trust that it won't be very pretty."

* * *

I was the last to arrive at the Big House. As usual, every head counselor was in attendance (save for Katie Gardner who was screwing Will Solace for a doughnut), however, I only noticed one; Annabeth.

All anger that I harbored towards Annabeth immediately melted as soon as we locked eyes. I promptly forgave her (in my mind) for screwing Tyson, Poseidon, Luke, Chaz, Oceanus, Spongebob, and every other sea creature in the ocean.

"Hi, Percy," she said. "I'm glad that you're not dead."

"Me too," I said.

She laughed. "Take a seat, Percy. We have a lot to discuss."

"She's right, Percy," Chiron confirmed. "And the first thing on our to-do list is to read you your prophecy."

My heart did a mini relay race.

Finally.

After four long years, I would _finally_ read the prophecy that predicted my fate in the Titan War.

Chiron threw me a fortune cookie.

"What's this?," I asked.

"That's your prophecy, Percy."

"My prophecy is in a fortune cookie? But that's impossible! You said that you already knew my prophecy! You told me that it said that I would have the power to either save or destroy Olympus!"

Chiron rolled his eyes.

"I lied, bitch," he said, "I made all of that shit up to _motivate_ you. I mean, really. Did you think that you were some sort of '_Chosen One'?"_

I felt like I was about to cry.

"I did think that," I whimpered.

"Ha!" Chiron laughed. "You're not any Harry Potter! You're not special! The only reason that we know this prophecy is for you, is because the Chinese deliveryman who was dropping off my egg rolls, said so!"

"That was probably Triton," I muttered.

"Exactly!" Chiron continued. "And that's how we know that whatever is in that fortune cookie, _will come true! _Now,crack the cookie open, and read the motherfucking slip!"

I put both of my hands on the opposite ends of the fortune cookie, prepared to break it, when...

"Hey!" It was Travis Stoll. "Do you guys hear that? It...it sounds like small children crying."

Chiron shuffled his hooves nervously.

"I'm sure that it's nothing, Travis."

"Yea, Travis," Clarisse agreed, "Chiron just has a few seven year olds locked in the basement. As usual."

I gaped at Chiron in shock. Even though I knew he was pedo, I didn't think he was _that_ low.

"Chiron you-"

"I, nothing!" Chiron interrupted. "Now read the damn cookie!"

With shaky hands, I prepared to open the fortune cookie that would reveal my fate, and the fate of the world.

Closing my eyes, I broke the cookie.

_'This is it, Percy,' _I thought, '_The secret to the worlds future is in your hands. Read it, and fulfill your destiny.'_

Slowly opening my eyes, I read the sacred letters on the sacred slip of paper, and the sacred words said:

_'Somebody finna die.'_

"WHAT!," I screamed. "That's it!? '_Somebody finna die_'? That's all they have to offer me!?"

Now, I had absolutely _no _assurance that I could save Olympus. It was looking like I would be Zeus' condom for all of eternity.

"In other news," Chiron continued, as if my whole little episode had never happened, "A giant monster named Leroy is on it's way to destroy Olympus. The gods are trying to stop him, but they are failing. We'll finish the rest of this meeting tomorrow morning. Council adjourned."

I was deflated. Along with stopping Crow-Nose, I had to figure out a way to stop Leroy from destroying Olympus. On top of that, Hyperion would be arriving in New York very shortly. And if that wasn't enough to make me feel bad, this happened:

"Hey Annabeth!," said Travis Stoll, "We're still meeting at the Zeus cabin tonight, right?"

Annabeth winked back at Travis and said, "You know it. I'll make sure to dress slutty for you."

Someone better find me a therapist because I think I'm going to kill myself.

* * *

*meanwhile, on the other side of the country*

"I can't do it, Reyna. Without my sword, I can't lead anyone, I can't help anyone, I can't kill any monsters, and I can't be a hero. I think I might just kill myself."

Reyna put her hand on Jason's shoulder and said,"You musn't think this way, Jason. This entire camp has faith in your guidance."

"I don't care, Reyna. I'm too sad to guide anything."

Reyna sighed. "Is there anything of which I may do to help you, Jason?"

Jason perked up a little bit and looked at Reyna hopefully.

"Will you have sex with me?"

...

"Get the fuck outta here, Jason."


	4. Chapter 4: Cabin Checks, Part 1

**A/N: As usual, this is a parody, blah blah blah, don't take it seriously, blah blah blah, if you don't like the comedy leave. On a more different starting note, I'd like to thank some of my constant reviewers who have reviewed each of my previous three chapters! Give it up for expa, LivLoveDream, and DarkPaladin000! Look peeps, I don't wanna be that guy who begs for reviews, so I'm not gonna. Instead, I'm going to ask like a normal person that you review each chapter I post. I need your honest opinion on all of my writings so I know whether I'm improving, getting worse, or staying stable. So with that being said, on with the show...**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Percy Jackson and the Olympians.**

* * *

I had a dream about Rachel Elizabeth Dare, and no, it wasn't a wet dream this time.

She was lounging by her pool...Okay, back up. I _meant_ to say, her _Olympic sized swimming pool_ in her _Bill Gates sized mansion_. Of course, it wasn't actually _her_ mansion. Everything belonged to her father, who had made _billions_ off of selling 'dick enhancers' (and a little extra cocaine on the side).

Unfortunately for Rachel, she had been born only a little bit before her father had started his company. Since Mr. Dare was such a proud new father at the time, he decided to name his incorporation after her. Thus, _Rachel Elizabeth Dare's Thick Dick Company_ was born, and as a result, Rachel has secretly nurtured a deep hatred for her oblivious father.

So anyway, now that _that_ useless piece of shit information is over with, I'll continue my description.

Rachel was lounging by the pool, though not in a swimsuit. Instead, she looked like she had just come back from a workout, wearing sweatpants and a plain white T-Shirt. Behind her, a couple of sliding doors opened up, and a pair of worried looking and almost nude parents came walking through the doorframe.

Rachel scowled when she saw them.

"You know," she started, "You guys should _really_ put on something decent to wear after you've had sex. These constant nude pep-talks are becoming annoying as shit."

Rachel's mom frowned. "What do you mean, dear? We _are_ clothed."

"Mom, you're wearing a blanket, and Dad, all you did was tie a pillow to your crotch."

"Hey! At least we're covered!" Mr. Dare said.

Rachel rolled her eyes. "Not if you've been using that stupid dick enhancer of yours. Look."

Mr. Dare glanced down at his crotch, and realizing that his penis had still not yet reverted back to actual size, blushed and turned around in embarrassment.

Rachel sighed. "And now you're showing me your wrinkly ass. That's just great."

Mr. Dare turned back around once he had stuffed a sufficient amount of his dick into the pillowcase. He smiled nervously at Rachel.

"Well, dear," he began, "As you seem to have already deduced by our _attire_, we've been having a little _fun_. And in our afterglow, we've realized that as a young teenager, you need a little bit of excitement in your life too."

"Face it, honey," Mrs. Dare continued, "You're always working, whether it's on your artwork or your schoolwork. You never have any friends."

Rachel rose up indignantly. "I do too have friends!"

Rachel's mom ignored her. "Honey, we just want to see you happier and less stressed. You are _our_ daughter after all. So, we got you a little present."

"It's actually a rather _large_ present," Mr. Dare said.

Rachel perked up a little bit. "Oh, yea? What is it?"

Mr. Dare whistled.

Suddenly, there was a small Dalmatian puppy running and barking happily in between Mr. Dare's legs.

"Oh, Daddy," Rachel gushed, "Did you get me a puppy?"

Mr. Dare looked confused. "Huh? What? A puppy...? Oh _that_. I don't know where this little fucker came from."

Mr. Dare kicked the puppy into the pool.

"Daddy, how could you!" Rachel yelled.

Mr. Dare shook his head dismissively. "Don't worry about that little shit, Rachel. I got you an even better present. Let me just try a different whistle..."

Mr. Dare whistled again, except with a higher pitch.

Suddenly, the hedges next to Rachel started quivering.

A tall, blonde, well-muscled, and handsome teenager stepped out of the leaves.

"Why the fuck was there a dude in our hedges?" Rachel asked. "Has he always fucking lived there?"

"Rachel," Mr. Dare said proudly, "I'd like to introduce you to Mr. Wonderful. He'll be taking you to your room and ah...pleasing you this evening."

"Hey," Mr. Wonderful said. "I have a dick."

"Holy fuck!," Rachel gasped, "Did you guys just fucking buy me a male prostitute to sleep with? You guys are sick! I am _not_ doing this!"

Mr. Wonderful put on a pleading face. "C'mon, Rachel! Don't turn me down! I promise it'll be fun! Plus, I really need the money, so if I can at least put the tip in..."

"No!" Rachel shrieked. "You can go shove your tip in your sorry ass!"

Mr. Wonderful looked crushed. "But...but...I have balls...and I'm sexy..."

"I don't give a crap, Mr. Wonderful! Why don't you go fuck the maid or something! I'll pay you for that."

Mr. Wonderful looked as if Christmas had come early.

"Thank you!," he said, then he rushed off to find the maid.

Mrs. Dare frowned at Rachel. "That wasn't very nice dear," she chided.

"Yea," Mr. Dare added, "Especially since the maid looks like Shrek."

"I don't care!" Rachel screamed. "What kind of parents are you?"

"Us!?" Mr. Dare seemed flabbergasted. "What about you? You get good grades, you do community service, you express yourself, you _like_ reading, what the fuck is wrong with you, child!? You even go to the gym and workout! Who does that? Only fat bitches need to work out, Rachel!"

"Oh, so tell me what _you_ think I should be doing, Dad. Because _obviously_, I'm not being productive enough," Rachel huffed sarcastically.

"I'll tell you what you should be doing, Rachel," Mr. Dare started impatiently, "You should be out there giving STD's! You should be doing drugs! You should be coming home completely _wasted_ every night! You should be listening to Chief Keef! Not that stupid, 'Tribe Named Quench' group you listen to. Last time I checked, they weren't rapping about drugs! They're _lameeeee."_

Rachel put her hands on her hips. "First of all, Dad, it's _'A Tribe Called Quest', _not, 'Tribe Named Quench.' Second of all, they are _not_ lame. I for one, enjoy listening to rappers with an actual brain. Third of all, who are _you_ to be telling me what I should or should not do?"

"Umm, we're your parents. We kind of reserve the right to do that...," said Mr. Dare.

"Honey," Mrs. Dare whispered to her husband, "This is worse than we thought. I think her weirdo friends are influencing her behavior."

"My friends are not weirdos!"

"Well you certainly dress like a weirdo," Mr. Dare commented.

"What are you _talking_ about? This is normal gym wear!"

"I think you mean _weirdo_ gym wear. I can't believe your mother let's you go out like this! Let me show you how you _should_ be dressed."

Without warning, Mr. Dare lunged in front of Rachel and ripped off her T-shirt. Then, he swooped down and dragged her sweatpants down south.

"Much better," he said. I had to agree.

However, Rachel, who had been stripped down to her bra and panties (forget about what I said about this _not_ being a wet dream), didn't seem to think so. She shoved her father aside angrily and then ran inside and up to her room. Okay, not really a room. Rachel had the whole top floor of her family's mansion. That included three bathrooms, two bedrooms, a small kitchen, and a torture chamber. But that's more useless information.

"I can't believe the nerve of them!" Rachel seethed. "Telling me how to dress and what to wear! Telling me that my friends are weirdos!"

Rachel angrily glanced at her nightstand. The newest issue of the _Olympian Dayz Magazine_ was partially covered by stacks of homework.

The _Olympian Dayz Magazine_ was series of issues concerning current day, mythological pop culture. It was only available to gods, demigods, and monsters, but I was able to get Rachel a subscription to the magazine through my connections (aka Hermes).

"I bet Percy is on the front cover of the magazine again," Rachel commented. "He's a _hero_, not a _weirdo_.

Oh, I was on the front cover, alright.

Rachel slid the magazine from under her homework. We both almost fainted when we saw the front cover. (Wait, is it possible to faint in a dream?) The headline read:

_'Percy Jackson Gets Dionysus Pregnant! Hero of Olympus Soon To Be A Father!'_

Underneath was a picture of a shirtless and pregnant Mr. D with his hands on hips smiling for the camera, while I was on my knees, licking Mr. D's bloated stomach and looking seductively at the camera.

This dream had become a nightmare.

Rachel collapsed on the floor. "Oh man," she whispered. "Daddy was right. My friends _are_ weirdos." Then, as if she knew I was listening, muttered, "Percy, what the fuck is going on?"

The dream faded, and the last thing I remember was wishing I would die in this dream and never wake up. Too bad I'm not that lucky.

* * *

The next morning, I trudged over to the Big House for part two of last nights meeting.

As expected, I was the last to arrive. I did not expect all of the strange looks and excited giggles I received upon entering the rec room. Even Chiron gave me a strange approving wink. Uncomfortably, I took my place on the blue bean bag chair.

Chiron cleared his throat and began. "Good morning, heroes. I hope that you all had a restful night. If you don't mind, I'd like to begin this council meeting by congratulating our very own Percy Jackson on his impending fatherhood. For those of you who may not know yet, Percy, and our beloved camp director, Mr. D, are expecting child. The magazine says that he is due sometime in March. Give it up for Percy!"

Everybody clapped and whistled. I, on the other hand, was ready to lose my shit. Instead, I decided to handle the situation calmly.

"Guys," I said steadily, "I am _not_ having a child with Mr. D. That article in the magazine was written by Hera. She fucking _hates_ me."

"But what about the front cover! That's clearly _you_ licking Mr. D's pregnant stomach," Connor Stoll insisted.

"Give me a copy of the issue," I demanded.

Katie, who was red-eyed from smoking on dope, gave me her copy. I studied it for a second.

"Just as I thought! I have _green_ eyes. The guy in this photo has _blue_ eyes. He's not me. It's an imposter. And by the way, Mr. D is not pregnant, he's just fat."

"Ohhhhhh...," everyone chorused in unison.

"Can I ask you guys a quick question, though?" I asked. "Just one simple question?"

"Sure, Percy," Chiron answered. "What's on your mind?"

"Well, I just want to know...ARE YOU GUYS MENTALLY FUCKING DISABLED!? HOW IN THE FUCK DO YOU THINK A MAN IS GOING TO GET ANOTHER MAN PREGNANT? DID IT EVEN FUCKING OCCUR TO YOU THAT MEN CAN'T GET PREGNANT ANYWAYS?"

Nobody spoke. Nobody moved.

"Well?," I asked. "Any answers? What about you, Annabeth? You're supposed to be smarter than this!"

Annabeth raised her hands up defensively. "Hey! Don't blame me!," she said. "I knew there was something fishy about that headline as soon as I saw it!"

Hold up, what?

"You thought it was_ 'fishy'_? A magazine tells you point blank that a man got another man pregnant and you think that it's fucking _'fishy'_?"

Annabeth turned red.

"But forget that part, Annabeth. We're best friends! We've gone on countless of missions together! Are you telling me that you thought the Imposter Percy on the front cover was me?"

"He was a great imposter, Percy! The only difference was the eyes!"

"But my eyes are my most defining feature! I mean, seriously. Have you ever read any PJO fanfiction that _doesn't_ talk about my 'sea green eyes'?"

"Percy, what in Zeus' name are you talking about?"

"Yea, Percy," Chiron agreed. "What _are_ you talking about?"

I snapped my head towards Chiron.

"Don't let me get started on you, you old centaur! What the hell is wrong with you? Even if I _was_ about to be a father, why would you celebrate it?_ I'm fucking fifteen_. That's like saying,_ 'Give it up for Percy, for ruining his own life at an early age!', _or even worse,_ 'Give it up for Percy, who shamefully couldn't fight off the old bag who molested him and made him a father!'. _Do you have no decency at all, Chiron?"

Chiron just shrugged. "I just want to know what this _fanfiction_ crap is that you keep talking about."

"Arghh! Forget fanfiction! Just continue the stupid council meeting! I refuse to discuss this topic any further!"

Everyone just looked at me like I was a weirdo. I couldn't believe the nerve of them. _They're_ the ones who thought that I would bang a dude several thousand years older than me, yet they look at me like _I'm_ strange. In fact, I was so angered by their nerve, that I felt like I could've fucked the apology right out of Annabeth until I came in her-

"Umm, Percy," Chiron interjected. "You're thinking out loud again."

Oh shit.

* * *

After getting kicked out of the Big House meeting, I decided to hang out by the courtyard and clear my mind a little. I was sitting on this bench for almost an hour before I felt a hand on my shoulder.

It was Annabeth.

"Hey," she said.

"Hey," I replied. "Are you mad at me?"

"Mad at you? Nah. I know you were just joking. You're a funny guy. In fact, I think you're the funniest friend I've ever had."

"Friend?," I asked.

"Yea. We still _are_ friends, aren't we?"

Dang it. Friendzoned again.

"Yea," I sighed, "I guess we are still friends."

For a moment, we just sat together in a comfortable silence. Then I asked:

"Is Chiron going to punish me?"

"He already has. But don't worry, it's not that bad. He just wants you to do my chores with me, along with yours later on."

"Okay then. What's first on your chore list?"

Annabeth flipped her hair.

"Firstly, we're going to do a cabin inspection. It should normally take about one hour, but since you can usually count on a load of shenanigans along the way, we should make it two hours. I think we should start right now so that you can get all of your chores done before the harpies come out. Sound good?"

I gave her a thumbs up.

"Then let's get started."

**(1) The Dionysus Cabin**

Our first stop was the Dionysus cabin. The Dionysus cabin is most commonly know as the _Fatass_ _Cabin_. This place is where food comes to die. Have you ever put food in a refrigerator to save, and then one day later, it disappears? I guarantee you'll find it in the _Fatass Cabin. _Remember the days when you would set out a plate of cookies for Santa, and then when you grew up, you realized it was your dad who was eating the cookies all along? You were wrong. It was the _Fatass Cabin. _And if your dad really _did_ eat those cookies you left out, you probably woke up on Christmas day with a dead father.

Anyways, Annabeth and I stepped into the _Fatass Cabin_. Suddenly, this kid crawls from under a bed, points at me, and says, "Hey, look everybody! It's our new stepdad!"

All at once, I'm accosted by a storm of overweight rugrats trying to hug me.

"Ow! Get the fuck off me! I'm not your freaking stepdad!"

The kid who had crawled from under the bed, pulled off of me and said, "But the newest issue of _Olympian Dayz Magazine_ said that you and our dad-"

"Yea, yea, I know what it says and it's a load of bullshit! Don't believe any of it!"

"But-"

"Hey, Percy! Hey, Annabeth!"

The kid was interrupted by Pollux, the only respectable member of the _Fatass Cabin_.

"I hope you two are finding our cabin to be in ship shape!"

I growled, "I'll find your cabin to be in ship shape if you can get these fat motherfuckers off of me! I mean, seriously! Each of these guys must weigh about the same as that Dudley kid from Harry Potter!"

Of course, no one listened to me.

"I'm actually very impressed, Pollux," Annabeth said. "I expected candy wrappers and empty ketchup packets everywhere. You guys really tidied up this time! Perhaps if you keep it up, you'll get a 'late night treat', if you catch my drift."

Pollux licked his lips like he was Jabba the Hutt. I gagged.

"So does that mean we pass?," Pollux asked hopefully.

"Almost. Just let me check under the bunks..."

"Annabeth," Pollux warned, "I don't think that's such a good idea-"

He was cut off by Annabeth screaming. Meanwhile, I was still fighting off the Dionysus kids who _still_ thought I was their stepdad, using a spoon and a fork. Everyone knows that Dionysus kids _hate_ utensils. They always eat with their bare hands.

"Back you hungry fatasses! Get back!"

I glanced down at Annabeth to see what her problem was.

"What the fuck, Pollux!," Annabeth shrieked. "You have dead bodies under there!"

Pollux just shrugged. "I told you not to look."

"But why!?"

Pollux sighed. "Well, last week, Rubin killed Richard over a Twinkie. More recently, Davis killed Jayden over one of the doughnuts that Percy brought yesterday. We haven't had a chance to sneak the bodies out of camp yet, so we just stuffed them in here."

Annabeth looked mortified, but I had just beaten back a wave of baby whales, and I wanted to get out of the _Fatass Cabin_ as soon as possible before they recovered. So I said:

"We'll pass you if you can get the dead bodies out by sundown tomorrow. Deal?"

Pollux thought. "Will I still get Annabeth's late night treat?"

"Fuck no!," I replied. "That ass is mine!"

Annabeth looked at me strangely.

"Er, um, I meant to say, you should be thankful that we're willing to pass this place instead of sending you to the harpies!"

Pollux looked at Annabeth, and then back at me nervously.

"Okay, then," he said. "It's a deal."

On to the next one.

**(2) The Aphrodite Cabin**

If your a female member of the Aphrodite cabin, your life is great. Parties everynight, expensive clothes, gourmet food, and every boy in camp wants to screw your face. It's the perfect female experience. But how do they pay for all of this luxury? How can they afford all of the finer things? They afford it all by forcing every male member of the Aphrodite cabin into prostitution. Yep, that's right. If your a dude, and your mom is Aphrodite, then your life is shit. You pretty much work all day as a sex slave, come back to camp at dusk or dawn (depending on your work hours), give any money you make to the females, and then you become their personal slaves for the remainder of the evening. In fact, their lives are so shitty, that most of New York's suicide death rate comes from the Aphrodite cabin alone. On the bright side, this cabin is usually the cleanest in camp.

Anyways, Annabeth and I were about to pass this cabin for inspection. Then I saw this tall, blonde, buff looking guy, sitting depressedly on a perfectly made bunk.

"Hey!," I said, "I recognize you! You're Mr. Wonderful! The prostitute that Rachel's parents bought for her!"

Mr. Wonderful seemed startled. "How do you know my prostitute name?"

"I had a dream about you!"

Mr. Wonderful's eyes widened.

"Not like that! I meant a demigod dream!"

"Whatever," Mr. Wonderful sighed. "Screwing Rachel's maid was the last straw. I don't think I can continue living."

"Don't give up!," I encouraged. "You have a whole life ahead of you! It might be a life full of shit, but it's still a life!"

Mr. Wonderful shook his head. "You don't know what I've been through, man. You don't know what I've had to do."

"Oh, come on, bro! I admit, you've probably had some bad experiences, but look at me! Every summer here at Camp Half-Blood, I've had experiences that were _beyond_ bad. I haven't killed myself yet."

"Have you ever had sex in a toilet bowl?"

"What!?"

"Then you obviously don't know what _bad_ is."

I sighed. "Okay, maybe you've had _one_ really bad experience..."

"I've had my balls used as a doorstop, too."

"Crap! Forget what I said! You should end this shit now!"

"Percy!" Annabeth called. "We have to move to the next cabin!"

"Okay!," I called back. Then I looked back at Mr. Wonderful.

"Look, bro," I started, "Your life can't get any shittier than it is now. Maybe, instead of submitting yourself to being a pathetic prostitute, you should leave Camp Half-Blood all together. You might be able to survive a good few years out in the real world before monsters tear you to shreds. It's something to think about."

Mr. Wonderful didn't reply.

"Okay then. On to the next one."

**(3) The Demeter Cabin**

Nobody gives a shit about these hobo weed smokers, so we skipped them.

_To be continued..._

* * *

*meanwhile, on the other side of the country*

"Have you seen my sword, Reyna?"

"I've already told you countless of times that I do not know where your sword is!"

Jason winked. "I was talking about the sword in my pants."

"Oh, is that one gone too?"

...

"Fuck you, Reyna."


	5. Chapter 5: Cabin Checks, Part 2

**A/N: This is a parody. Don't take anything here seriously. Please take time to give me your feedback. I'm feeling a little shaky on this chapter so I'll genuinely need it. Also, who's your favorite character so far? Answer by taking a vote on my poll, writing it in the comments, or even both (that would be nice).**

**Disclaimer: PJO belongs to Rick Riordan**

* * *

**(4) The Hephaestus Cabin**

Some people are born great. Others are born useless. And some people are born to Hephaestus.

The Hephaestus Cabin takes _'useless' _to a whole new level.

Useless squared.

For a cabin whose father is the God of Blacksmiths, Mechanics, and Technology in general, these guys are pretty bad.

They make weaponry, automobiles, and original products/inventions, all of which are shit. Useless shit. And not to mention, dangerous and risky shit.

Who could forget the infamous, _'Bitch Be Gone Spray! One spray and the bitch is gone!'_

Oh gods, that was bad. I honestly have no idea how that was supposed to work, but rumor has it that Zeus tried spraying Hera with it. Not only did the spray fail to work, but Hera beat the fuck out of Zeus.

Beat. The. Fuck.

Thalia told me that Zeus' left nipple had been completely destroyed, and according to Apollo, the god of medicine, Hera's incisor is planted into Zeus' right ass cheek for all eternity.

Talk about a hickey. Whatever possesed Hera to take a nice bite out of Zeus' ass is beyond me. Maybe she likes the taste of ass?

*_somewhere in a fancy restaurant on Olympus*_

_Hera: Yes, I'll have a glass of white wine, two sides of grilled shrimp, and as my main course, I'll have an 8 ounce Hispanic ass, preferably from Spain._

_Waiter: Umm, ma'am, we don't serve, er...Hispanic ass, here. It's not part of our menu, or our hygiene standards._

_Hera: I see. Oh well then, I guess I'll settle for some British ass. Preferably from Wales. Zeus, would you like to share?_

_Zeus and Waiter: (facepalm)_

_*back to Camp-Half Blood where Percy is continuing his description of shitty Hephaestus cabin inventions*_

And then there was the boomerang sword. I bet you already know what this does.

You throw the sword, kill the monster, and then your like _'Oh shit! I really killed that bitch!' _And then you see the sword spinning back towards you and you run away like _'Oh shit! I'm finna die!'_ And then the sword slices your head _clean off_ and you don't say shit because you're motherfucking dead.

I think the Hephaestus cabin has killed more demigods than monsters in its entire existence, so I find it pretty _freaking_ understandable that Annabeth and I started the inspection with a pump-action shotgun in our hands for protection against retarded inventions.

Jake Mason, the only one in the cabin at the moment, also seemed to think it was normal. He was sitting on a small gray bunk, polishing a celestial bronze disc. Knowing how dangerous Hephaestus cabin inventions can be, I got a little worried about what it was.

"Hey, Jake," I said warily, "What do you got there?"

Jake smiled. "Oh this?," he asked as he started to stand up. "This is my-"

Annabeth abruptly shot him in the leg.

"Oh shit!" Jake screamed in pain. "Why in the fuck did you do that!"

I looked back at Annabeth quizzically.

"Yea, why'd you shoot him, Annabeth?"

Annabeth's face was pale, but she still managed to retort sharply.

"Don't look at me like that! You can't pretend that you didn't get worried when he started to stand up with that_ creation of his_. What if it explodes or something?"

She had a point.

"Hey assholes," Jake moaned in agony, "Are you just gonna stand there and watch a homie bleed to death? Or are you gonna get me to the motherfucking sick bay?"

I glanced uneasily at Jake, and then at the bronze disc beside him.

"First, tell us what the disc is."

Jake looked appalled.

"What the...? You just blew my motherfucking leg off! I'm here bleeding like 2pac and you won't even-"

"Tell us what it is, Jake," I said sternly, aiming my shotgun at his face.

"Okay, damn!" Jake rasped. He leaned forward and clutched his injured leg painfully, making ripples in the widening puddle of his own blood he was lying in. He struggled to get his words out.

"Argh...fucking dicks...it's a...it's a shield. It's a shield you damn douchebags...shit. You fucking...shot me for nothing...fuck, I'm dying."

I raised my eyebrows skeptically.

"For real? Is it really a shield?"

"For real? Are you really gonna fuck me over like this?"

"Sorry, man. It's just that you have a _giant fucking hol_e in the _damn middle_ of your shield."

"Fuck you. It's a new innovation."

"A new innovation for getting _fucking forked_."

"Fuck you, Jackson. Leave my damn shield alone and save me."

Breathing a small sigh of relief, I glanced back at Annabeth.

"It's just a retarded shield, Annabeth."

"Yea," she breathed, "We weren't in any danger. We're okay."

"I'm fucking not," Jake put in.

"Damn right, you're not," Annabeth agreed. "Look at these bunks! Look at this _cabin! _It's all a mess! How can you expect us to pass this?"

Jake looked astounded.

"Bitch, are you actually _continuing_ the inspection?"

Annabeth took a step towards Jake.

"Did you just call me a-"

I held her back.

"Hey, Annabeth," I started. "Do you think that maybe we should get Jake to a medic?"

Jake rolled his eyes.

"I dunno. Maybe?," he said sarcastically.

Annabeth frowned.

"I'm not sure, Perce. I don't really like his attitude."

"You just shot my leg off, and you're telling me I have an attitude?"

Annabeth growled. "Fine. Let's go, Jake."

"Not so fast, hoe. It's too late for me. You dumb fucks have wasted enough time. I'm about to die."

"Oh no!," I exclaimed.

"Yea, a shocker right? The only thing left of my leg is my upper thigh which is bleeding like hell, and you guys leave it untreated for ten whole minutes. It's like, _'How am I dying in the first place?'_ Am I right?"

"Yea, I know!"

"Haha, no bitch. You're stupid as fuck. Of course I'm dying. But no matter how amazed and pissed off I am right now at your stupidity, I have some things I have always wanted to say to each of you."

"What?," I asked.

"Well," Jake croaked. His voice came out in a scratchy whisper. "Annabeth, I know I have a girlfriend but...you give the best blowjobs a man could ask for."

"What the fuck!"

"And Percy. You are one of the bravest heroes I have ever met. Don't let this messed up world get you down. You are a fighter, you hear me? A fighter! Remember me during the final battle. Remember all of the fallen heroes when you fight Crow-Nose. *cough* *cough* Leggo, Westside!"

I sniffled.

"I'm touched by that, Jake," I said. "And I have something I should tell you too...before you die."

"What is it?" Jake rasped gently.

And as the brave Hephaestus cabin leader took his last few breaths, I moved forward, leaned over him, and whispered in his ear gently:

"Imma fuck yo bitch when you're gone."

**(5) The Athena Cabin**

After leaving Jake's body in the dust of the Hephaestus cabin, and forgetting how he was so nice to us in his final moments, despite the fact that we were being total dicks to him in the end, we made to inspect the Athena cabin. We didn't actually get to _go_ to this cabin. Mostly because Annabeth, being the sexy, smart, cheating ass bitch that she is, had already put a ten down for her cabin even though I know _for a fact_ that it's cluttered with shit. Mostly homework and boring math papers. But we didn't miss much. The Athena cabin mostly stays true to how it's supposed to be depicted. They're smart, good with hand to hand combat, and say big words. The only major difference is that some of them are snobbish dweebs who like to call me mean things, like_ 'peasant.'_

_Me: Hey, what's up, Malcolm? _

_Malcolm: Hello, peasant._

_Me: Okay... How are you?_

_Malcolm: I'm doing fine, peasant. And how are you fairing in your robust peasantry? _

_Me: Uhh..._

_Malcolm: Peasant? Are you quite alright?_

_Me: Uh, yea I'm fine. You just kind of confused me there..._

_Malcolm: (sighs) You are such a pathetic little peasant. Don't you have to be stupid somewhere else?_

_Me: Not until noon._

**(6) The Poseidon Cabin**

Lol, you guys probably thought my cabin was going to be a wreck, right? You probably thought it was going to be trashed in candy wrappers, apple cores, semen stained tissues, and pornographic magazines. Haha, nope. I cleaned out all the trash, stashed my pervy pictures of Rachel and Annabeth under the mattress, piled all of my laundry neatly in the corner, and slid my "special circumstances" lotion in the drawer. Haha, I had you all fooled. I'm not _that_ stupid. I clean up nice, bro. I clean up...oh shit, Annabeth is looking under the mattress.

**(7) The Hermes Cabin**

The Hermes kids are the Bad Luck Brians of Camp Half Blood. For every good thing that happens to them, something three times as worse occurs immediately after. It's all because of a curse placed on them by Hades.

You see, their father, Hermes, is the god of messengers. He's basically the Olympus Mailman. One day, Hades gives Hermes a package to deliver to Persephone, who's on her six months away from the Underworld. He tells Hermes that the package is to go _directly_ to Persephone, and under _no circumstances _can anyone open the package_ but Persephone_.

Hermes gives Hades his word, leaves the Underworld, and opens the package without hesitation. Inside was a video on tape. A video that has since gone viral. A video that is responsible for making Hades so antisocial. A video that goes something like this:

(starting video playback from memory)

_Hades is in a dark room, lying on a bed shirtless._

_"Is the camera on?," Hades asks. _

_"Yeah," says an unseen camera man._

_"Good."_

_Hades begins to stare seductively into the camera._

_"Hey sexy," he says, trying to sound charming, "It's your Sugar Daddy."_

_Hades lifts his thigh up awkwardly and begins to rub and caress it in his best attempt at looking sexy. _

_"I know you're up their in Olympus, and I'm down here in the Underworld, but even though we're apart, that doesn't mean I can't give you some hot lovin'."_

_Hades then starts rubbing his naked torso in oil, groaning strangely all the while._

_"I know you wish you could be down here, Persephone. I know you wish you could be giving your sexy Sugar Daddy some love."_

_Hades groans again._

_"You want this, don't you Persephone? I know you do. By the time you see this video, you'll panting like a hellhound. Oh yeah, baby, I said it. Like a hellhound."_

_Then, Hades turned around and started moving his butt in slow circles for the camera, making these weird grunts with each complete rotation. _

_In fact all you could hear was, "Ungh. Unga. Unmph. Oh yea, you see this? Wuh! Wuh! Wuh! Unga! Unk!"_

_Then, Hades starts actual dialogue again._

_"I've been having dreams about you, Persephone," he purred. "Such great dreams. So vivid. So real. Don't you wish you could come down and find out?"_

_Then, Hades turned back around, lay flat on his back, and started slowly thrusting his hips upward._

_"Oh yeah, Persephone," he moaned. "I know you miss this. I know you've _got_ to miss this. Come home and get some. Come home and get some of this sugar!"_

(video clip ends here because of graphic scenes deemed inappropriate for a rated T fanfiction. Lol, you horndogs probably wanted me to finish this scene)

Anyway, Hades was mortified that his little video had gone viral and he tried to kill Hermes, but the bastard had Zeus' protection. So Hades, in classic Greek god display, took it out on Hermes' children. At first, he started killing them all one by one, but that soon became tiresome, so he cursed the kids.

Hades had it bad, but if you ask me, it wasn't as bad as the time I was caught wearing a maid outfit. _That_ was embarrassing.

But today, Annabeth was inside assessing the cabin, while Travis Stoll and I had a little chat outside the cabin. I often like to have these conversations with Travis, mostly because his bad luck stories make me feel better about my own crappy life. Today's complete list of terrible incidences, according to Travis, are:

Lenny: escaped from a burning building in Staten Island, only to get run over immediately by a firetruck.

Little Timmy: finally finds the courage to stand up to the camp bullies, only to get his ass beat into next February.

Jackson: challenges someone to "come at him", only to have the person in question _actually ejaculate on him_.

Rupert: shoots a stray arrow, only to have it land in the heart of his girlfriend

Kerrie: she finally finds her long lost brother...in Chiron's basement

Linda: Linda goes fishing on a boat in the middle of the ocean and catches a fucking lion. She's dead now, by the way.

Jada: Jada wins a very illustrious beauty contest in Oakland, only to have her face completely _scraped and pasted_ on the road after a motorcycle accident.

Dano: Dano loses his virginity only to have the girl frantically try to give it back

Neeson: Neeson tries to light a small fire and he succeeds, but when he steps on the fire to put it out, it explodes, burning him to a crisp

Lily: Lily has her first kiss and makeout, only to find out that her new boyfriend has been "partaking" in her best friend's nether regions like Thanksgiving dinner, if you catch my drift.

Donovan: Donovan kills the Chimera, something I haven't even done, only to have the Chimera reform 30 minutes later and kill him

Richie: Richie wins an iPad in a raffle in which he only had a one in a million chance of winning, only to be crushed by a falling rock which is a one in a million chance occurrence

Lola: Lola wins first place in the championship swimming meet, only to drown in the following pool party

Dave: Dave has the worst luck out of all the Hermes kids, only to find out that his dad isn't really Hermes.

Sheila: Sheila's mom shows signs of wanting to be a better mother and she makes her first home cooked meal...crack.

Wesley: Wesley masters the use of a sword and shield, only to have the monsters shoot him down with double desert eagles.

Hal: Hal has wild drunken sex at a party, only to wake up the next morning and find his sister lying next to him (oh, eww!)

Travis: Travis stole a nice car last week, only to find out it was Apollo's. Apollo burned down his grandmother's house.

So yeah, this list makes me feel a little better about myself, no matter how mean it sounds. For some reason, Travis also seemed to find some type of hope in this list.

"I think the Hermes cabin has reached an all time low this week, Perce," Travis revealed. "I honestly think that our days of bad luck are over. There's absolutely _no way_ it can get any worse for us. _No way_."

Then Annabeth comes striding towards us.

"Good news, Travis," she says. "Your cabin was perfect. I'm very impressed. I gave you guys a 10 out of 10 on inspection."

I felt happy for Travis. Maybe his days of bad luck really _were_ over. Travis seemed to think the opposite, though.

"Bitch, you did _what_!?"

Annabeth stepped back, a little frightened. "I gave you guys a 10 on inspection! Wha-what did I do? What's wrong?"

"What's wrong!?," Travis exclaimed. "What's wrong!? What you _did_ was wrong! Don't you know that for every good thing that happens to us, something _way_ worse takes its place? The Hermes cabin has _never_ gotten a 10 on inspection, yet you just gave us a perfect score! Gods, I can only imagine what will happen to us next-"

The Hermes cabin promptly exploded.

_"What the fuck! No! Connor! No!"_

Travis ran off to his burning cabin in tears, while Annabeth and I looked at each other sheepishly.

"How about we pretend like this never happened?"

"Like with Jake?"

"Yeah, like with Jake."

"Okay then. Let's walk away awkwardly."

"Yeah."

We walked away awkwardly.

**(8) The Ares Cabin**

I really don't want to get into the details of what happened here. It's really quite embarrassing for both Annabeth and I. Let's just say, in a nutshell, that Annabeth and I walked into the cabin for inspection, the Ares kids stupidly thought it was an ambush, they beat our asses, we managed to calm them down and begin the inspection, we gave them a five, they beat our asses, we raised it to an eight, they beat our asses, we gave them a ten, they grunted in approval, we said a bunch of other flattering things to get on their good side, more grunts of approval, I slipped on a puddle of blood, they beat our asses, we called out to Chiron for help, they beat his ass, Clarisse tried to sexually assault me, I escaped, Annabeth was left in the cabin, they beat her ass (and probably did other things), Annabeth escaped, she beat my ass for being a sissy, then every male in camp beat my ass for being a sissy, then I ran away, then I came back to help Annabeth finish the cabin inspections, then I got my ass beat by the grass.

Yep.

That's what happened.

In a nutshell.

But for those of you who are still mystified as to the true nature of the Ares cabin, here's a Q&A interview taken by Clarisse LaRue after she and her team of idiots survived Daedalus' Labyrinth last summer. It's really quite stupid, but it should accurately describe the ridiculous character of the entire Ares cabin by itself.

So, without further ado:

(inter_view playback from memory starts now)_

_Interviewer: Good evening Miss LaRue. You're our special guest on the Olympian Dayz Magazine Q&A interview. As most people know by now, you and a team of your cabinmates have just returned from a perilous mission into Daedalus' Labyrinth, a place where no one has been in several thousand years. Tell me, what was your first reaction when you were assigned this mission?_

_Clarisse: Kill._

_Interviewer: Hmm, okay then. What was your primary goal in undertaking this dangerous journey? Were you trying to thwart Luke Skywalker's plans to use the labyrinth as a link to CHB? Or were you just trying to stay alive?_

_Clarisse: Blood. Kill. Destroy. _

_Interviewer: That's interesting...I guess. Tell us about the labyrinth itself. What's it like? What was your personal experience?_

_Clarisse: Clarisse crush. Muder. Death._

_Interviewer: Murder and death, huh? Did you meet any of Crow-Nose's minions along the way? What type of monsters did you come across?_

_Clarisse: Destruction. Kill more. Clarisse crush now._

_Interviewer: I'm guessing you killed a lot of monsters. How did you find your way around the labyrinth?_

_Clarisse: Clarisse destroy now? Crush?_

_Interviewer: Um...whatever. Uh, well, what did you think when Percy Jackson decided to take a similar mission into labyrinth? Did you have any advice for him, possibly?_

_Clarisse: Percy Jackson blood. Percy Jackson death. Kill kill. Crush, boom, die. Beat ass. _

_Interviewer: Well that's...nice. Any words to your father, Ares, on your accomplishment?_

_Clarisse: Die._

_Interviewer: That can't be healthy...Er, any final words for the interview in general?_

_Clarisse: Blood. Take ass. Kill ass. Crush all. Big shield. Bang bang._

_Interviewer: You are certainly well spoken, Miss LaRue. Join us next issue for another Q&A, hopefully from a someone who is well versed in putting together sentences! This is the Interviewer, signing off!_

_Clarisse: Bang bang_.

(interview ends here)

If you didn't get enough info on the Ares cabin from this interview, then you might just be as dumb as them.

**(9) The Apollo Cabin**

As of this year, the Apollo cabin has become the "Annoying As Shit Cabin". It would've been the "Stupid As Hell Cabin" but that's taken by the Ares cabin permanently.

Every year, the Apollo cabin takes on a new personality based on the different genres of music Apollo is currently into. Unfortunately, they always take the _bad side_ of whatever genre it is. This year it's hip hop.

Mainstream hip hop.

Not alternative hip hop. Not concious hip hop. Not late '80's or early '90's hip hop. Not abstract hip hop.

_Mainstream hip hop._

You can already tell where this shit is going.

Nowadays, the Apollo cabin has become completely unsociable.

They don't talk to you, they rap to you. And when they rap to you, they diss you. And if they don't diss you, they rap about weed. And if it's not weed, then it's bragging. And if it's not bragging, then it's girls. And that's weird because 99% of that cabin is gay. And also...

_The Apollo cabin can't rap for shit._

Seriously.

I walk through the cabin threshold, and my ears are promptly offended by a barrage of seedy, second-rate flows and lyrics.

Thankfully, the cabin takes a pause to size me up.

Everything is silent as Michael Yew, a small Asian guy who's the Apollo cabin head counselor, steps in my face with his chin high, trying to look like a thug. For the most part, his clothes are matching in all white, so he comes off more like a Japanese chef who's really fucking serious about his miso soup. But of course, I didn't actually _say_ that to his face. I tried to go down a more peaceful route instead.

"Hey, Michael," I began. "Annabeth and I are just here for a cabin inspection."

Michael considers this, and steps a little closer. I can feel his hot breath scouring down my neck. Then, he predictably starts to rap his response:

_"I bet you're feeling high and mighty _

_And of that there's no doubt _

_I bet you feel like you're the shit _

_But you couldn't even fart me out."_

What the...what?

Fart him out?

Tha fuck?

Why would I want to do that?

Of course, those dickriding Apollo kids thought it was the best line ever, and they hyped it up by going, '_ooooooh_'. I was not impressed, though. My mind was boggled.

"Umm, Michael. You know that made no sense, right? What does me being the shit, have to do with the desire to have you sprayed out of my asshole?"

I got a bunch of 'boos' for that, and apparently Michael took offense, so he rapped a second response.

_"Don't be mad that my rhymes are stronger than police protection _

_ I'm fly going hard like geese erections."_

More cheers from the crowd. I, on the other hand, want to die because that was so bad. For those of you who are even more stupified than me, here's a translation.

In hip hop terms, fly means cool, and geese fly. But Michael is saying that he's fly AND he goes hard at the same time.

Like geese erections.

When the goose in question is flying.

And has an erection.

And here comes the mental image:

_Some random goose: OH YEA! I'M REALLY GETTING TURNED ON BY THIS WIND! YEA BABY! FLY HARDER!_

Can this get any worse?

Oh, and not to mention _this_ obvious possibility:

"Shit, Michael. I don't think that geese even get erections. Are you sure about the validity behind that line?"

Michael smirks at me, then raps:

_"An elephant never forgets _

_So my dick remembers everything."_

The crowd went berserk. I went nuts. There was _no way_ I was going to let this ridiculousness slide.

"Now wait just a diddly darn second!," I called out. "Are you implying that your dick has seen a geese erection? Do you mean to tell me that your dick remembers that experience, and he said, '_Oh yea, Michael. Geese erections are totally real. Why don't you just throw that in a rhyme while you're here talking to me, your friendly neighborhood dick.'_ Are you saying that you have frequent conversations with your genitals about your respective pasts? Wait, does this mean that you've had sexual relations with a goose? Did you just call your penis an elephant? Does that mean-?"

My rant was cut short by Michael shoving me. Then he begins another rap angrily.

_"You have no right to talk shit!_

_I'm flier than an ostrich!" _

"Then you must not be fly at all, because ostriches are flightless."

Michael growled.

_'I'm fly cuz I'm hot_

_You ain't cuz you not."_

"Do you want to elaborate on that? I mean, you could at least tell me why I'm not."

_"I can't do what you ask_

_Cuz I'm un-coachable, unmovable, and unsubmittable_

_I go by Mikey now_

_Only two syllables."_

"As opposed to what? The name 'Michael'? Isn't that also two syllables?"

_"I suppose you think your smart_

_But I don't know how you missed this_

_I'm simplistic, imperialistic, and I'm kicking misfits."_

"Michael, have any of those adjectives ever been utilized in a positive manner? If a potential boss were to ask you what your redeeming qualities were, is there any scenario in which you would kick things off by saying you're 'simplistic'? Or 'imperialistic'? If he asks you what your favorite hobbies are, will you say,_ 'Oh, I just love kicking around misfits. The handicapped and mentally disabled ones are my favorites. I like to wear my cleats when I kick them.'_ Do you know what you're even saying?"

_'I know that you're a loser, and barely shit_

_Yo momma gotta gap tooth so my dick has got to fit."_

"Oh wow, you really fucked up here, Michael. Not only do you indicate that your dick can fit between the wide gap in my mother's mouth, but you also imply that your dick can fit between even _normally_ spaced teeth. As the extra gap gives you confidence that its GOT to fit."

_"You talk about my rhymes, but it's logic you lack_

_My shit is taboo, like my sister's ass crack."_

Ho. Lee. Fuck.

"Oh gods, Michael. It's baffling enough that you continue to diss me even though I'm clearly accurate, but for God's sake, why, in the midst of a verse targeted at someone you wish to insult, would you whip out a line like this? _Taboo like your sister's ass crack_? Out of all the taboos in the world, _that's_ the one you go for?"

By now, Michael was furious.

_"You might got more brains and more wit than me_

_But you aint got the skills to eat a homie's dick like me!"_

What!?

Eat a..?

"Shit! Those are some skills you can keep to yourself!"

Michael seemed to realize what he just said.

"Er, no, that's not what I what I meant. I...I uh...I meant to say...umm...aw fuck it! Fuck you too, Jackson. I've seen your future. You're fucked, you know."

"Wait, what?," I exclaimed, "You've seen my future? How?"

"Apollo is not only the god of music. He's the god of prophecy too, dumbass. I have that power. And you know what? You're fucked. Fuck fuck fuckity fucked. Crow-Nose will win. You'll fail. Everyone you know will despise you, and you'll be killed slowly. But you know what's the best part? When you're dead, the Apollo cabin will be able to share Annabeth amongst each other. Major win."

"But you all are gay."

"That's not the point, Jackson. The point is, you're going to be a failure. So why judge me, when you should be judging _your_ sorry self."

And with that, Michael shoved both Annabeth and I out of the cabin.

"You can give us a fucking one on the cabin inspection for all we care. Losers."

Then he slammed the door in our faces.

* * *

"I'm sure he wasn't telling the truth, Percy. He was just angry that you embarassed him in front of his cabin, and rightfully so. His raps were horrible."

"But what if he's right, Annabeth? What if I fail? I made a promise to my father. I told him I would save Olympus. I'll look like an idiot if I fail. Everyone will hate me. And not to mention, I'll be Zeus' condom for all eternity. Can you imagine how bad that'll be? First of all, if Crow-Nose wins, he'll throw Zeus' into Tartarus. Along with Hera. And I'll be Zeus' condom. I don't want to go to Tartarus, and I _definitely_ don't want to go inside Hera's-"

"Stop talking like that, Percy! I have complete faith in you! Prophecy or not, we will beat Crow-Nose. Don't worry about those Apollo jerks. They'll get what's coming to them."

Annabeth patted me on the shoulder and started to walk off.

"Wait! Where are you going, Annabeth?"

"We finished the cabin inspection, Percy. Now I'm on my way to search for some morning sex."

Morning sex? Since when has she been having morning sex? Does this mean she has afternoon sex? Evening sex? Does she have midnight sex, too?

Annabeth continued, "All I need to do is find some poor, distressed, virgin boy to have sex with. Do you know any, Percy?"

I swear I heard an angelic chorus humming through the air. Finally. My moment of truth. I was going to get it. My dreams were about to come true. Suddenly, Barack Obama was next to me.

"Do it, man," he said. "Hit that. Hit that hard. Hit that 'till her toes shake. Make it presedential."

Barack was right.

"Yes!" I exclaimed. "I know a virgin! It's me! It's me! I'm a virgin! Screw me! Screw me!"

No reply. Annabeth was gone.

"Wait! What happened to Annabeth?"

"Oh, she's gone," a flower said. "She went off to screw Chris Rodriguez an hour ago. You were standing here drooling like an idiot the entire time."

"What! The entire time? How could I have been so dumb? I ruined my only chance!"

"You sure did, kid," the flower said. "And you just proclaimed to the entire camp that you're a pathetic, no action getting virgin. Nice job."

"I don't need this from you! You're just a flower! You shouldn't even be talking!"

"Oh, so you're gonna be racist? What does it matter that I can talk? I can also get more action than you'll ever get."

"Okay, that's it, you're done!"

I pulled the stupid talking flower out of the dirt.

The flower coughed.

"Aw fuck you, asshole. Fuck you. This shit always happens. Maybe next time I'll be reborn into a tree. Then you fuckers won't be able to just _pull me out._ Fuck you."

Then the flower died.

This can also be seen as a metaphor for Annabeth getting deflowered for the 117th time, but fuck it, I'm no English teacher. I'm just a guy who's destined to be Zeus condom for all eternity.

* * *

*somewhere on the other side of the country*

"Hey, Bobby, do you think I can use Reyna as a sword?"

**A/N: Wow, this was my longest chapter. I realized a little ways into writing this that this whole 'Cabin Check' arc was a bit of a plot distractor, so instead of making it 3 chapters I crammed every other cabin into this one. Sorry if it seems a bit rushed. Not all of my funny ideas made the cut because I was trying to get this published asap, but don't worry, I promise they'll come up somewhere. Peace out.**


End file.
